


Relaxing, And Other Things Hermione Granger Was Very Bad At

by citrusorgans



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-14 21:56:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19281982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citrusorgans/pseuds/citrusorgans
Summary: “I’m about to do something that has a high-risk, high-reward probability of coming off either ridiculously charming or ridiculously stupid.”“What?”“Do you trust me?”“Just barely.”





	1. Chapter 1

It had been a week since Hermione arrived at the Burrow for her holiday. She’d been pressured by her boss at the Ministry to finally take the time off she’d been accruing for the past year. After some protests, the compromise she allowed was spending a month at the Weasley House. Molly Weasley was, of course, delighted to have her company over the summer. And with Ginny and Harry staying there while the two of them prepared for the arrival of their first child, Hermione was more than happy to take a break from work. (But not before sneaking off with a pile of documents to take care of while she was away.)

In the week since she arrived, no less than three Weasley siblings had ducked into the house for varying lengths of time. Bill and Fleur visited for an afternoon, with little Victoire cradled in her father’s arms.

Percy and Audrey stayed for a few days. He and Hermione discussed their work at length until Mrs Weasley hushed them for talking shop over dinner.

Ron stayed the longest. His visit with Harry and his sister didn’t end until his fifth dinner came to a close. He and Harry spent the days flying out in the backyard and playing chess. Catching up with Hermione had become their evening routine. She enjoyed this Weasley visit the most so far. She had missed her friends.

Hermione thought after Ron’s departure that the whirlwind of redheads had finally finished. The flurry of relatives was not unwelcome, but Hermione could tell Mrs Weasley’s hospitality had been stretched thin by the in-and-out of children and grandchildren and guests. Hermione helped around the house whenever she could, but nothing could soften the blow of their next visitors.

The swing of the front door and harmonized greetings one Sunday night meant the two most exhausting members of the Weasley clan had flooded in. Fred and George hugged their parents and set down their luggage with loud formalities and the announcement of their three-week-long visit. Hermione was pulled into a tight embrace by the both of them.

“Hermione!” The twins said in unison. “What a treat!”

“Hello boys,” she patted their backs, warmed by their affections.

“We didn’t expect to see our favourite classmate before Christmas,” George said as he drew away.

“I’m on holiday.”

“Holiday?” Fred asked, hands still on her arms. “What, so the paradise of the Ministry wasn’t enough for you?”

“They forced me to take my annual leave.”

“Ah, that sounds more likely.” Fred laughed, patting her on the cheek. “Well, I’m glad you’ve chosen _Casa de Weasley_ for your luxury resort.”

“We’ve had the same idea.” George helped his father in picking up their bags. “We left Lee in charge of the summer rush while we spend some time strategizing our Fall Line.”

“Always found good luck in returning to our roots for inspiration.” Fred elaborated.

Mrs Weasley put her hands on her hips. “I hope that won’t mean you’ll be causing trouble for me all month.” 

“Of course not, Mum.” Fred draped his arm around her shoulder. “We are grown adults,”

“Professional businessmen,”

“And very good sons.”

“We’ll be quiet as mice; we won’t bother you in the slightest.”

“Plus,” Fred’s arm now moved to Hermione. “We’ve got the sharpest Prefect in the history of Hogwarts under the same roof.”

“No nonsense with Granger here keeping an eye on things.” George agreed.

“I should hope not.” That seemed to put Mrs Weasley at ease. “Arthur, help me with these bags.”

“I’ve got it, Mum.” George held out a hand to keep his mother from fussing. She followed in step behind her husband and son, tutting for some way to help, as they made their way upstairs.

Fred remained in the living room with an arm around Hermione.

“It’s good to see you,” Fred grinned at her.

“Good to see you, too.” She said.

“Been keeping out of trouble?”

“I should be asking you that.”

“You shouldn’t if you know the answer.”

“Right.” 

She couldn’t hold back her smile. For all their headaches, she did miss the Weasley twins a great deal. Fred had kept his hair short and tidy, something Hermione was sure to be for the sake of his mother. His summer attire was a breezy blue button-up, rolled to the elbows and falling loosely on his chest. He’d gotten taller.

“Are you really planning on staying for three whole weeks?” Hermione asked him.

“Don’t sound too excited.” He said. “George and I should have plenty to keep us busy. We will leave you to enjoy your holiday in peace.”

“You two are incapable of leaving me in peace.”

“And yet you’re still happy to see us.” Fred gave her nose a small tap with his finger. He let his arm fall from her shoulder. “Well, the feeling is mutual, Granger Dear, and I look forward to our stay together.” Fred gave her a wink before departing for the stairs. Hermione shook her head, chuckling. This was going to be a long month.

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

Hermione was up early the next day. Recently, she had fallen into the routine of helping Ginny make breakfast for the family. Cooking wasn’t something she was particularly good at, so she mostly helped by handing off ingredients and setting the table. With the addition of two more Weasleys, the end result resembled more of a buffet than a simple meal.

The rising sun cast streaks along the dining table as Hermione laid out dishes. When Ginny approached the table with another handful of plates, she gestured to the stairs.

“Would you mind getting everyone?” With a mild groan, Ginny put a hand to her lower back that had been aching all morning. At six months pregnant, she wasn’t keen on making trips upstairs to herd her family. With a nod, Hermione gladly took on the task.

Harry and Ginny’s room was first on her route. She made light steps on the wooden floor as she approached.

“Harry?” Hermione called quietly, knocking only barely and pushing the door open a sliver. She saw a mop of black hair shift under a pile of white sheets. Harry let out a groan as he rolled over, curling himself tighter into the blankets.

“Breakfast is ready when you wake up,” Hermione assured him. Harry gave a noise that sounded like “yeah, thanks, ‘Mione...”, muffled by the pillow. When the lump of sheets began to snore again, Hermione shut the door and latched it quietly into place. 

She headed up another flight and passed Arthur in the hall. 

“Good morning, Hermione,” He greeted in his ever-cheerful voice.

“Good morning, Mr Weasley.” She said. “Ginny’s got breakfast ready.”

“Excellent,” He nodded, adding the final loop to his tie. “Molly and I will grab a bite of it before we leave. I’m taking her out shopping today. Something special for the end of summer. Thought I’d treat her to new fertilizer and gnome-repellent.”

Hermione laughed politely and Mr Weasley went off to fetch his wife. 

As Hermione continued up the stairs and around hallways and empty bedrooms, she was aware of the uncharacteristic quietness of the Burrow. The greying wood creaked under her soft footsteps, but no other noise could be heard up on these higher levels of the house. 

Percy’s room was locked, with magic and muggle protection. With a few more steps she passed the door to Ron’s room. It was left ajar as if he’d only just left and expected to return in a moment. She padded past the room Bill and Fleur had turned into storage. Hermione had been using Charlie’s old room for her holiday, the emptiest and easiest in which to unpack her things. 

Hermione let the dull ache of old memories run through her as she traced the railing with her palm. She felt comforted by the walls that creaked and rugs that had worn threadbare. This home, quiet and empty, felt soaked with the presence of her second family. The light breeze of summer morning came through dusted windows and she took a deep breath.

The few steps to Fred and George’s door were different. As Hermione approached, she disliked the lack of chaos usually heard from their room. It was calm, and she did not trust it at all.

She brought her hand up to the grain, about to knock lightly, when the door swung suddenly open.

“Oh,” Hermione exclaimed as she nearly bumped into the chest of Fred Weasley.

“Good morning.” He grinned down at her. His expression, soft with sleepiness, brightened when he saw her.

“Good morning,” Hermione took a step back to give him space. “Breakfast is ready.”

“Great,” Fred smiled. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t expect you to be up.” She said.

“I was just about to head down.” He said. “It smells fantastic.”

“Yes, well, that’s mostly Ginny’s doing,” Hermione admitted. “I’m not so great in the kitchen.”

“I bet you did fantastically.” Fred patted her shoulder and made his way downstairs. He had closed the door behind him, and Hermione didn’t get the chance to tell George. She decided he must have heard them, anyway, and followed Fred down the hall.

“Did you sleep well?” Hermione asked, “I hope your beds were alright. I made them about a week ago and didn’t know how you liked your pillows fluffed.”

Fred glanced at her over his shoulder. “I didn’t realize you were running a Bed and Breakfast.” He chuckled. “Everything was perfect. I slept wonderfully. It’s amazing how easy that is to do without Ron and Ginny shouting at each other.”

“They got along fine when he was here a few days ago.” She walked a bit faster to keep up with his long strides.

“Oh, did I miss his visit? Shame,” Fred said, and he really did sound disappointed. “Wanted to see if he’d improved since our last match. I know Ginny’s been teaching him some of the Harpies’ techniques.”

“I bet she’d be happy to help you out, too,” Hermione offered.

Fred shrugged. “Oh, I don’t need the help,” he grinned. “Plus, with how pregnant she is, I doubt Gin would be feeling too up to a game of Quidditch.”

“Oh, no, she would!” Hermione said. “You should have heard her when her manager told her to take maternity leave. ‘This child is going to be born with a broom in their hand; I’m playing until it bloody pops out of me!’”

Fred laughed with her. “That’s my sister,” he said wistfully. “Oh, speaking of her,” Fred paused, turning on his heel. “I’ve forgotten something. Meet you down there, yeah?”

Hermione nodded and returned to the kitchen. She chatted with Mrs Weasley as she cut through her toast. She and Mr Weasley left a moment later, dressed for a summer day out. When twenty minutes had come and gone, Hermione wondered when the boys would finally be down.

“Honestly,” she said as she brushed crumbs off the tablecloth. “Why even bother fetching them in the first place?”

Ginny shook her head as she downed another helping of bacon.

The swift sound of footsteps rushing down several flights of stairs pounded through the walls. Fred jumped down on the landing, holding something behind his back. He bowed to the girls as they rolled their eyes at him. 

“Dearest sister,” Fred moved to the table, bending down to plant a kiss on Ginny’s cheek.

“You need to shave.” She complained, rubbing at the spot where his scruff had made contact.

Fred ignored her and turned. “Dearest Granger,” He leaned over to kiss Hermione on the cheek as well, but she ducked out of the way.

“No,” She warned, holding up her index finger admonishingly. 

Fred, undeterred, leaned in again. When his second attempt was met with another quick dodge, he aimed for the top of her head and kissed her bushy mane of hair.

“Ack,” He pulled away and stuck out his tongue. “Hairball.”

“Very funny,” Hermione said.

“For you, sister dear,” Fred removed his hand from behind his back and presented Ginny with a box wrapped in pastel green paper.

She accepted the gift, cautiously untying the ribbons wrapped around it. She fixed Fred with a look of suspicion, which he waved off.

“C’mon then, I haven’t rigged it.” He said assuredly.

Ginny took one more beat of hesitation before tugging away the paper in a final sweep. Inside the box, there was a bit of soft fabric. Ginny examined it as she took it into her hands. A small plush lion gave a meek roar at the contact. Smiling, Ginny watched the lion roll onto her palm and purr against her skin. It was rounded and soft, and very cute.

“For my niece,” Fred elaborated with a grin. “Or nephew. Or whichever,”

“Fred, this is wonderful,” Ginny pulled her brother into a hug. “Thank you,” She placed the lion on the table, letting it pad along the wood with its stuffed feet.

“You’re welcome,” He said. “That one’s just from me. George will have another gift for you soon. We’re still working on the right charm.”

“Where is George, anyway?” Hermione asked, peeling back the rind of an orange.

Fred turned to go pour himself a cup of coffee. “Still in bed, the old sleepyhead. He was up late last night working through some of our books.” After a few years of figuring out how to balance responsibilities at Weasley Wizard Wheezes, the twins decided that Fred would handle the production side of things while George was in charge of their money. The system worked well enough, and only once had there ever been a fight over which one would be in charge of the boring parts.

Fred sat down across from them, curling his fingers around the hot coffee mug. “So,” He exhaled, settling in. “What have the prettiest witches in the house been up to all summer?” Fred winked at Hermione, who rolled her eyes.

“You’d know if you read the letters Mum’s been sending you.” Ginny scolded. “She only hears from you two about three times a year.”

“Shop’s hard work.” Fred offered a vague defence. He took a sip of his coffee and pulled a face at the bitterness. He scooped up a few generous helpings of sugar as Hermione shook her head at the display. She took her coffee black.

“Besides, to my credit, I _read_ every letter.” He elaborated. “It just takes a lot out of me to write her back. I love the woman, bless her, but some goings-on are too complicated to get into over parchment.”

“Too complicated, or too dangerous?” Hermione asked, raising her eyebrow and knowing the answer already.

“Well, there’s no sense in giving the poor woman a heart attack every week, is there?” Fred allowed. “And I respond to the important news!” He turned to his sister, insistent. “When she told me you were pregnant, I was the first in the family to send a congratulations letter!”

“Actually, Ron was,” Ginny confessed. “I owled him about a week after we found out.”

Fred clutched his chest in shock. “You told Ickle Ronniekins before your favourite brother?!”

“Charlie’s my favourite brother.” Ginny reminded him, earning a groan of pain from Fred. “And we had to tell him, he’s Harry’s best friend.”

“And where is Professor Potter this morning?” Fred let out a huff. “Waiting with other news to tell his best friend about before me?”

“Sleeping in.” A call came from the stairs, and Harry entered the kitchen with a mop of jet-black hair looking more dishevelled than usual. “And I promise, the next time we experience a very personal, important life milestone you’ll be the first to know, Fred.”

“Speak of the Stag,” Fred grinned at his entrance. “That’s more like it. Alright, Harry?”

“Just fantastic.” Harry dragged a hand over his tired face. He greeted Ginny with a sleepy kiss. Giving Hermione a companionate side-hug, he headed to the counter to make himself tea.

“It’s a little early to call this ‘sleeping in,’” Hermione glanced at the clock that read 8:15.

“He’s been up at four all this past week,” Ginny explained for him as Harry nodded along and drank his tea. “Prepping for classes.”

“That’s right,” Hermione said, coming to the realization. “It’s nearly September!”

“Just a few more weeks,” Harry said. “I’m trying to see what I can arrange with Professor McGonagall about switching the curriculum for the fifth years.”

Fred hummed attentively, reaching over to pull a slice of fruit off of Hermione’s plate. She shot him a look that he accepted with a cheeky grin.

“Their OWL scores went up since I introduced counter-jinxes to their schedule...” He removed his glasses to rub his palm against his eye. “So, I hope that means the lessons I have planned for the fall will be challenging enough for their sixth year. Of course, there’s always their NEWTs to think about… Hopefully, their scores won’t dip too badly. I don’t know how great an idea it would be to throw Dangerous Beast identification into the mix…” Harry trailed off distractedly.

“Look at you, prattling along about schoolwork.” Fred tilted his head and grinned at Hermione. “I wonder where you got that from.” She bit back a smile.

“Harry, don’t worry too much,” Hermione offered. “You’re the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher Hogwarts has ever had.”

“That’s not saying a lot,” Fred added, and Hermione glared at him. “But she’s right,” He backpedalled. “You’re doing fine, mate.”

“Thanks,” Harry let out a breath. “And honestly, it’s not that bad. It’s challenging, but I feel better working at this than… really, anything I’ve ever done before.”

“Not that you’ve had the most conventional upbringing,” Ginny joked, rubbing a hand along his back.

Harry chuckled. “You’re right. For some reason teaching about the Dark Arts is a whole lot better than actually fighting against them.”

“Here, here.” Fred raised his coffee to his mouth.

“Any big plans for the day?” Harry asked his wife. 

“Not really,” Ginny shrugged.

“Good,” Harry said sternly. “Then you’re perfectly free to lay around and give me lots of attention.”

Hermione snorted. “Oh, god,” 

Ginny laughed at her husband and patted his arm. “I was thinking something along the lines of going over your lesson plans together, but yes, I suppose I could do that too.”

“Thank you,” Harry gave his words an extra bit of flare.

“You two are just sickly sweet.” Fred shook his head.

“You’re just jealous.” Ginny stuck out her chin.

“I am not,” Fred said. “I could be just as adorable with Hermione any time I want.”

“You could not,” Hermione said.

“But I keep myself decent,” Fred continued, “For company’s sake.”

Hermione rolled her eyes for what felt like the hundredth time.

“Hey,” Fred said. “Later, if you two aren’t busy being the second cutest couple in the house, how about a bit of Quidditch?”

“Yeah, alright,” Harry nodded. “It’s been ages since I’ve been out.”

“You were playing with Ron just three days ago!” Hermione spoke up.

“Like I said,” Harry held up his hands. “Ages.”

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

Hermione did not join them that afternoon in the backyard. She stayed inside, up in her room, toiling away on Ministry appeals and cases. She didn’t mind it, sitting and working. She needed to be productive this month, or she’d be behind. From her spot on the windowsill, she had a decent view of the yard and the makeshift Quidditch field below.

George had awoken just in time to play some two-on-two with them. With their teams established, Harry, Ginny, and the twins gathered in the yard for their match. They zipped and spun through the air energetically. Ginny looked just as skilful as ever on her broom, dashing around the field and scoring circles around the boys. They weren’t playing with bludgers, so Fred and George were taking up Chaser and Keeper positions. Their stockier builds weren’t as adept to the agility required for the role, so Harry was easily out-manoeuvring them. They caught up to him a few times, though, using techniques they’d seen at old World Cups and matches. By the time they’d properly warmed up, all four of them were playing to their fullest.

A strange feeling overcame Hermione as she watched Fred dart around the field with that huge grin on his face. She felt something that she had never associated with Quidditch before. Longing.

Well, maybe that was a bit too serious. But still, the feeling came to her all the same. Hermione wanted to be on that field with them. She wanted to play and laugh with her friends, to feel the wind whip through her hair and a swoop in her stomach. To dive and rush and hit and catch. Her longing for it was so strong at that moment that she even considered taking the risk of getting on a broom to do so. 

When her indulgent daydreaming came to pass, Hermione shook her head. Honestly, what was she thinking? She hated flying. She was terrified to do it. What could be so important to her that she would take that risk? 

Hermione turned back to her work, removing the uncharacteristic desire from her mind. She scratched away at her paper, determined to regain focus. Her attention slipped only slightly, and in a moment of weakness, she glanced at the window again. Fred looked very good on a broom.

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

The next morning was quiet. Harry and Ginny were off shopping for baby supplies in London, and Arthur and Molly were off to work. The twins had yet to come downstairs, so Hermione decided to enjoy this rare moment of peace.

The Burrow, with its unreliable insulation and constantly steaming machines and tea kettles, was unbearably hot on summer days like this one. The sun beat down its scalding heat until the late afternoon.

Hermione sat in the living room, curled with files and documents on her lap. Beads of sweat dripped from her forehead. She’d had to twist her unruly hair up in a bun to keep its frizzing under control. Even in her coolest summer outfit, she was still smothered by the humidity that settled into her skin. She continued through the sweat until she heard the steps coming from upstairs.

Fred sauntered down with exaggerated effort.

Hermione looked up from her work with a questioning quirk of her eyebrow. Fred let out a dramatic sigh, fanning himself with his hand and puffing out his shirt. As he slumped into the armchair next to her and let out another pathetic moan, Hermione humoured him.

“Yes?” She continued scrawling onto her paper.

“It’s so hot out,” Fred whined, glancing to her for a reaction.

“I could cast a cooling charm on you.” She offered.

“No, that’s no fun,” Fred declined.

Hermione chuckled. “Bored and hot? Goodness, how will you ever survive?”

“It’s quite a curse, really.”

“Well, don’t look to me for entertainment,” Hermione blotted ink against a scrap piece. “I’ve got a lot of paperwork to catch up on.”

“While you’re on holiday,” Fred said flatly. “Visiting friends who would love to spend time with you.”

“Mmhm.” Hermione continued to write.

“You know what would be great on a day like this?”

“What?”

“Going for a swim.” A grin crept to Fred’s face.

“Where would we do that?” Hermione asked, though she hardly thought Fred would bring up the subject without a plan of his own already in mind.

“The pond outside is quite lovely this time of year.”

“I think I’ll pass.”

“Now, Hermione,” Fred deflated. “It’s hot out and I want to go swimming!”

“You are welcome to go without me.”

“It won’t be as fun.”

“What about George? Can’t you go with him?”

“He’s in meetings at Gringotts today. Treasury stuff.” Fred tilted his head at her. “Plus, he doesn’t look nearly as good in a suit as you would.”

“Oh, I bet he could pull off a bikini quite well,” Hermione replied in monotone.

“About as well as I can,” Fred joked, “And from experience, I can tell you it’s not flattering.”

Hermione shrugged. She flipped a page over casually. “He’s grown taller than you.”

“George?” Fred snorted. “No, he hasn’t.”

“He has,” Hermione tapped the paper with her quill. “By about half an inch.”

“Impossible.”

“It’s quite possible,” Hermione smirked. “That’s what you get for not drinking your milk.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Fred waved her away. “Anyway, I still tower over you so what does it matter?”

“I would hardly call one foot ‘towering’.”

“You’re so tiny,” Fred’s mouth curled into a grin as he teased. “Little Granger. Five feet tall, you could fit in my pocket!”

“Oh, hush.” She bit back her smile. “If I didn’t like you so much, this would be bullying.”

“You like me?” Fred faltered.

“Of course, I do,” Hermione stated, matter-of-factly without meeting the cocky grin she knew he was wearing. “I’ve known you for over ten years, Fred, it’s hard not to like someone you’ve known that long.”

“That’s your reason? Persistence?”

“You certainly are,” Hermione said, “Persistent to the point of annoyance. I can’t get rid of you.”

“Nor would you want to.”

“No,” Hermione agreed in her very professional way. “I wouldn’t.”

Fred thought on this for a bit. Hermione glanced up at him and saw his expression twisted into something resembling mild surprise.

“Well, you certainly know how to sweep a guy off his feet, Granger.” Fred finally let out a sigh and relaxed into the chair. “Honestly, that has got to be one of the most frigid declarations of love I’ve ever been privy to.”

“I said nothing about ‘love’,” Hermione stopped her pen. “You are so dramatic.” 

“And you love it.” Fred quirked the corner of his mouth. He leaned over to her paper, getting a better look. “What are you writing?”

“Oh, I’m not.” Hermione flipped the piece of parchment up. A grin snuck to her face as she revealed a page full of ink. It was covered in scribbles and mindlessly looping strokes.

“Oh my god,” Fred broke out laughing. “You really weren’t.”

“Do you think I can focus _at all_ with you bothering me like this?”

“I’m only bothering you because you need a break.”

“I’m fine.”

“You have been working since six in the morning, Hermione,” his tone turned a bit serious. “You need a break.” He repeated.

Hermione gave him a look, and he held up his hands in surrender.

Fred let out a laboured sigh, slouching back. He allowed for a few beats of impatient silence before speaking up again.

“Nice glasses,” he tilted his chin at the tortoiseshell frames around her brown eyes. “Those new?”

Hermione folded the piece of paper neatly. “Relatively. I saw an optometrist—A muggle doctor for eyes—a few summers ago and she said I needed them.”

“Man, I’d hate to be the person telling Hermione Granger she can no longer read by candlelight.” Fred chuckled.

Hermione smiled genuinely. “Yes, it was quite disappointing.” She removed the glasses from her face, a few stray curls of hair bouncing back into place.

“They’re just supposed to be for reading, but I’ve charmed them for a little more than that.” She handed the glasses over to Fred, who took them graciously and put them on his own face.

“When the glasses recognize a book it’s already seen, it highlights important parts.” She explained, turning her open book to face him. “I’ve charmed it to pick up on themes, motifs, important quotes, character motivations, and other helpful syntax.” She pointed to each of her examples in turn. Fred poured over the page, eyes wide and fascinated.

“The highlights are multi-coloured, as well,” Hermione said, pride unhidden in her voice.

“Incredible,” he mused, touching the parchment lightly. “Really, this is next level. You could make a fortune on these, Granger. ‘Re-Reader Lenses’. Has a nice ring to it.”

“If you steal my invention, I want royalties.” She chuckled pleasantly, resting her chin in her palm.

“Do you think we could charm them to see through clothes, as well?” With the question, he turned his gaze on her.

“Absolutely not.” She laughed, swatting at his face as he looked her outfit up and down.

Fred unsheathed his wand with a flourish. “I bet I could fix that— _Vestimenta Reveli_ — “

“Fred!” Hermione shrieked, lunging for the glasses. He ducked his head out of her reach. She lost her balance and without a bit of grace fell forward into his lap.

“Hm. Seems like it’s already working.” Fred nodded down at the position she had landed in. Hermione flushed as she realized the neckline of her blouse was no longer covering all that it needed to. She scrambled to right herself. Fred chuckled, casting his gaze away courteously. He folded up the glasses and handed them to Hermione.

“Honestly,” she huffed, straightening her blouse and shaking away her red face. “I take you to one muggle joke shop and it fills your head with all sorts of dangerous ideas.”

“If you think we haven’t given X-Ray glasses a shot before, you don’t know us at all,” Fred said with a shake of his finger. “George and I started inventing when we were fourteen years old. Do you really think that wasn’t one of the first things on our beta line?”

“How’d they go?” Hermione laughed, replacing the glasses back in their self-cleaning box.

“They could see through skin.” Fred gave a shudder. “Not the sexiest thing we could have hoped for. Kind of traumatized us to the idea after that.”

“I bet.” She leaned back in her seat. “I suppose that’s the only way either of you will end up seeing a woman without her clothes, anyway.”

“Oy!” Fred yelled; fake shock broken by his laughter. “Uncalled for!”

Hermione giggled, ignoring the dramatic hand clutching his chest.

“I’ll have you know my dashing good looks and charming personality has had an excellent success rate!” He defended.

“Right.” Hermione raised her eyebrow at him. “That’s why you’re spending your holiday at your mother’s house.”

“And what’s your excuse?” He quirked his eyebrow in challenge.

Hermione crossed her arms. “I wasn’t the one who just tried to magic away their friend’s clothes.”

“Well, I didn’t need magic for that one, love, did I?” Fred’s smirk was unbearable. Hermione floundered for a retort, opening her mouth a few times before relenting.

“Speaking of disrobing,” Fred continued, ignoring Hermione’s scoff. “How about that swim, then?”

“I haven’t got a bathing suit.”

“What you have under there is fine,” Fred took the hit to the arm with a laugh.

Hermione glared at him for a moment before letting out a huff of air. “I’ll see if Ginny’s got something for me to borrow.” Hermione stood, ignoring Fred’s excited fist-pumping as she left the room.

 

Hermione met Fred downstairs. He had changed into his own suit. A vibrant pair of orange trunks with purple stripes contrasted the modest blue one-piece Hermione had on. She caught his eyes dipping across her form, but he didn’t comment. She accepted the towel he threw to her and followed him outside.

As they passed the garden, the smell of freshly watered soil and greenery floated through the air. Hermione admired the flowers and crops in full bloom as they continued around the house. The humidity mixed uncomfortably with the summer heat, and she was decidedly very glad to be going swimming after all. 

Cattails and weeds clung to the perimeter of the pond. Waterlilies rose to the surface in clusters, and Hermione examined the rippling water. They walked down the small wooden pier, stopping before it ended.

“Are you sure it’s clean?” She asked, leaning over the edge tentatively.

“Granger, the dirtiest thing in this water is going to be me.”

Hermione looked at him, eyebrows flat and unamused. “Do you have an ‘off’ switch?”

“No,” Fred said. “But I _do_ have an ‘on’ swi— “

“I’m going back inside.”

“No, no, Hermione, wait,” he laughed and slung an arm around her waist before she could turn to leave. “I’ll tone it down a bit, I promise.”

Hermione let out a sharp breath of air, blowing a few curls out of her eyes. She looked to him expectantly.

Fred’s grin made her nervous. “But I’m about to do something that has a high-risk, high-reward probability of coming off either ridiculously charming or ridiculously stupid.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “What?” She was suddenly nervous about his arm at her waist.

“Do you trust me?”

“Just barely.”

With a smirk, Fred gave a firm tug, and he and Hermione were falling into the water.

They hit the surface with a deep splash. Hermione’s scream of Fred’s name was cut short on impact. She twisted against his grip while they sunk, bubbles and water grass swirling around them. When they finally resurfaced, Hermione shoved away from Fred, who was laughing hysterically.

“Frederick Gideon Weasley!” Hermione screamed, incredulous. “You are _twenty-five_ years old!” She whipped her sopping hair away from her face.

“And that means I’ve had that many years to perfect my technique. Now, Hermione, please,” Fred reached out to pull her closer to him in the water. “Just relax. Don’t worry, I’m here.”

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about.” She splashed him, attempting to keep her expression stern, but feeling laughter break her façade.

“So, what’s the verdict?” Fred said. “Charming or stupid?”

“Stupid!” Hermione shouted, unable to hold back her giggles. “So, so stupid!”

“Ah well,” Fred’s grin widened. “Worth a shot.”

After a moment of recovering from the initial shock of being dunked in, Hermione allowed herself to relax. The water was cool and surprisingly clear. She could track the waterlilies’ roots down to the bottom. The sand was about another three feet deeper than what she could reach. She treaded water around Fred as he floated. 

“This _is_ nice,” Hermione admitted, once she’d gone under again to straighten out her hair as best she could.

“Thanks for coming,” Fred replied, lounging. “I felt bad not having you out playing Quidditch with us yesterday.”

Hermione paused, looking to Fred. She examined his blank expression. “You didn’t have to do this out of pity.”

“Oh, no that wasn’t it.” Fred looked down at her. “I wanted to spend time with you, and I was disappointed we couldn’t yesterday.”

“Oh.” She thought on that. Her face held the faintest of blushes. “Well… I’m glad we can today.”

Fred smiled at her. “Me too.”

He righted himself in the water. “Hey,” he pointed to the other end of the pond. “Race you?”

“Alright,” A grin grew from Hermione’s face. She and Fred set up and were soon properly enjoying the water.

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

There were only a _few_ weeds tangled in her hair.

“Honestly, Fred, I’ve got it!” Hermione insisted, swatting his hand away as they walked back to the house.

“ _I’ve_ almost got it, come on,” Fred reached for her mass of wet hair again, taking the strands delicately between his fingers. “Just… let me…”

“Ow!” Hermione exclaimed as he gave another tug.

“Got it! I’m sorry! I’m sorry, love,” he comforted, laughing and cradling her head apologetically. “Blimey, did you catch a whole tree in there?” Fred held up the twig he’d rescued from her curls.

Hermione exhaled sharply, turning to hide her blushing face. “Thank you,” she rubbed the spot on her scalp.

The sun was beginning to set by the time they returned from their swim. Fred’s face was flushed and glowing from the excursion in the sun, Hermione admired the way the light caught in his eyes. He led them back inside, fluffing his hair out with the towel. Hermione gave her own a preliminary squeeze before reaching for her wand and drying it out the rest of the way. She provided Fred with the same service, and he accepted the jet of warm air with a grin akin to that of a pleased cat. 

They went up to their rooms to change, and when they returned downstairs, Mrs Weasley was entering through the front door. 

“Welcome home, Mum,” Fred greeted, hugging her and kissing her cheek. 

“Thank you, dear,” Mrs Weasley set down her things “Where’s your brother?”

“George should be back soon. He was going to check in with Lee after his meetings, so I expect him back within the hour.”

“Wonderful.” She let out a sigh, weary from the day. She checked her watch. “Well, it is Sunday night. I’ll tidy up a few things, then leave the kitchen to you, dear.”

“No, Mum, don’t worry, I’ve got it.” Fred patted her shoulder. “You’ve had a long day; I can take care of things.”

“Are you sure?” Mrs Weasley glanced around.

“I’m sure. Go rest before dinner, I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

“Alright,” she let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through her greying hair. “I’ll be upstairs. Hermione, dear, shout if you need me.”

“I’ll take care of Hermione,” Fred insisted. “Now go.”

Mrs Weasley retreated upstairs finally with a nod of her head. “Don’t set the house on fire.” 

“Aw, Mum, that was only two times!” He called to her.

Hermione watched as Fred began opening cupboards. He opened the icebox and began sorting through its contents.

“ _You’re_ making dinner?” She raised her eyebrows.

Fred chuckled, turning to face her with an armful of ingredients. “Don’t look so surprised.” 

Fred set the supplies on the counter. He turned to a shelf and pulled a heavy book from it. He set the recipe book down with a _thud_ and began flipping through it.

“You can cook.” She said, still in disbelief.

“I can.” He kept turning pages.

“And you’re making dinner.” Hermione repeated, still dubious. She had sat down at the counter across from him.

Fred raised an eyebrow at her. “I promise I won’t poison you,”

Hermione let out a short puff of air but did not protest further.

She stared as he continued to move through the kitchen with ease. “Do you do this every Sunday?”

“Since I was twelve.” Fred nodded. “We all took turns for a while. With seven of us, it seemed only fair to help Mum out sometimes.”

Hermione hummed in understanding.

“Though, the rest of them kind of got sick of it. I kept taking over their shifts because I actually didn’t mind it. Eventually, I decided I kind of liked it, and I’ve been the only one making Sunday dinners for about seven years now.” Fred said, pulling a large pot from under the sink and placed it on the wood in front of her. “I cook for George back at our apartment, and then for the rest of us whenever we visit home. It’s quite fun, actually.”

“Ah,” Hermione said, contemplatively. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, dipping in and out of cabinets and shuffling around spices. She figured she was just being paranoid, and honestly, she really did believe him. It just seemed too uncharacteristic for Fred Weasley to be acting so responsible. Not a firecracker or dung bomb in sight.

Hermione stood and met him at the sink. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, I’m alright,” Fred said calmly, picking up a sack of potatoes.

“Are you sure?” She moved to follow him when he turned away. “I could cut the onions or peel the potatoes.”

“That’s okay, I’ve got it.” He waved his wand and they began peeling themselves.

Hermione continued to hover. “I could slice the meat?” She tiptoed around him, manoeuvring around his path. “Or… something?”

“Hermione,” Fred turned. He gripped her arms at the elbow, thumbs on her skin and eyes locked on hers. “You are spectacular, amazing, and wonderful at _so many things_ ,”

Hermione blushed a lovely shade of red.

“But cooking is _not_ one of them,” Fred admitted with a stern expression. “I can handle this. Now sit down and let me make dinner.” He finished with a soft smile and gave her a twirl. He placed her gently back on the stool at the counter. Hermione sighed impatiently but remained in her seat. Her face, still warm from the exchange, relaxed as Fred continued at his work. She leaned her arms on the counter, watching him search through cabinets. He turned on the stove, set up pots, gathered knives. Hermione’s eyes trailed him with a soft look of appreciation.

After a moment, she spoke up. “Are you going to wear the apron?” She pointed to the blue frilly thing hanging from a door hook.

Fred laughed. He put his hands on his hips, fixing her with a look. Spinning on his heels, he reached for the fabric and tied it around his waist. He presented his outfit to her with dramatic gesturing hands.

“Now you look the part.” She giggled at the display. “I trust you. Please continue.” 

She gave her wand a flick, and her books flew over to where she sat. She set up her workstation while Fred whirled around the kitchen. The two of them carried on in amicable silence. Fred would whistle a few short tunes, and Hermione would tap her foot at the patterns. Her mistrust forgiven, they worked until dinner was ready.

 

George arrived home around six thirty. The pinstripe vest he wore reflected the bright colour of his hair, and Hermione wondered if Fred had an outfit just as orange.

“Georgie, perfect timing,” Fred turned back to his work. “Dinner’s nearly done.”

“It smells great,” George said, gathering his silverware. “Beef stew, Freddie?”

“Only the best,” Fred said, placing the dish at its setting. 

“Nice look,” George joked, tugging at the bit of blue lace around Fred’s waist.

“Thank you,” he gave his hips a little shake. “Hermione _insisted_ I dress up for her.”

Hermione scoffed as George laughed.

“Well, you have excellent taste,” George told her, greeting her with a hug. “Hiya Granger. Where have you been all weekend?”

“Working” Hermione admitted, slightly sheepish.

“You are on _holiday_ ¸ Hermione,” George criticized. 

“Don’t worry, I’ve put a stop to it as much as possible,” Fred said, pointing the ladle. “But every time I turn around, she’s got a quill in her hand!” He tapped the tip of her nose with the metal.

“I haven’t been _that_ busy,” Hermione defended as she set down a glass of water.

“I’m surprised her hand hasn’t fallen off with all the writing.” Fred teased. He set the final dish onto the table and gave his hands a resolute clap. “Right. I’ll go get Mum and Dad. George, Hermione, make yourselves comfortable.”

Harry and Ginny walked through the door just as everyone was sitting down for the meal. They put away their packages of shopping spoils and joined everyone at the table.

The atmosphere was light and friendly. Hermione sat next to Ginny and Harry on one side, while Arthur, Molly, and George sat across. Fred sat at the head of the table, dolling out serving spoons and offering side dishes to anyone with an empty spot on their plate. He was insistent on acting host, and Hermione couldn’t help but admire how well he filled the role.

They all conversed long after their plates had emptied. Hermione nursed her glass of wine as she listened to Ginny tell one of her many Quidditch stories. Hermione would laugh, and she’d feel Fred’s eyes on her. That happened a lot, she was noticing more with every sip. She would speak and have Fred’s rapt attention. Even when they’d all be in other conversations, Fred’s glance kept landing on her throughout the entire meal. 

She found her face blushing and blamed it on the wine.


	2. Chapter 2

“Hey.”

A voice awoke Hermione from her studious stupor. It was late, the only light being a sole candle Hermione liked to keep lit when working in the living room at this hour. She hadn’t heard footsteps, her attention spent entirely on the lengthy paper she had been pouring through. So, she was surprised when she lifted her head to be looking up at the amused face of Fred Weasley.

He held a bottle of beer, opened and angled to her.

“Break time.” He gave it a little shake as she slowly came out of her daze.

Hermione accepted it from him with a sigh. She collected her loose papers and documents, piling them up but keeping her thick tome of a book open on the table.  
It had been an uneventful week. Fred and George had been off and about, sometimes at meetings and sometimes inventing up in their room. Harry would spend more time on his curriculum, occasionally joining Hermione in their work, but always being pulled away by Ginny when it got too late. He’d made it until ten that night, at which time he yawned hugely, gathered his things, and turned in, leaving Hermione to sit in the living room alone.

Alone until now, of course.

“Midnight on a Saturday,” Fred settled onto the couch next to her with a huff. “Should have known better than to think you’d be down here relaxing.”

“This is how I relax.”

“Of course.” Fred took a sip of his own beer. “That’s why you’re greying at the ripe old age of twenty-three.”

“What?” Hermione grabbed at her hair.

Fred leaned over and tugged out a strand. When he held it to her face, its grey shine curling, Hermione gasped. Fred quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Fine.” Hermione clutched her folders tighter. “Maybe I have a slight issue with stress.”

“Maybe slightly.” Fred put his hand down on her book. “Now,” He leant over and ran his finger slowly along the page. He kept his eyes level with hers, daring protest. He settled on the corner and lifted, closing it. “Break time.”

Hermione finally let out the tension in her shoulders with a long huff. She stretched back, cracking a few of her joints. After a few became nearly every bone in her body, Fred chuckled.

“You know, I’ve got a sweet that would clear that right up. ‘Tension Toffee.’ Would make you nice and limber.”

Hermione levelled her eyes at him. “I think I’ll manage, thanks.”

Fred shrugged, taking another drink. Hermione massaged at a particularly stubborn spot at her shoulder.

“Or I could just take care of it.” Fred grinned. “Rub you down myself?”

Hermione snorted. “Such a gentleman,”

She gave a final stretch to her neck and collapsed back onto the couch. She took a few large swigs of her beer before anything else.

“Blimey,” Fred said, amused by the display. “Rough night?”

“Long and arduous,” Hermione admitted, cradling the bottle in her palm. “I’ve got fifty more pages of goblin rebellion in the 1800s to get through before I can even start drafting an appeal. It wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t horrible to read about. Some of these Magical Law Enforcement reports are so graphic. It nearly makes me sick.”

“That is rough,” Fred said gravely. “Not exactly light evening entertainment.”

“No,” Hermione smiled weakly. “It’s not.”

“You know,” Fred said, “I’m not just being a prat when I tell you to relax a little. Honestly, I’m worried about you.”

She bristled at that. “I don’t need you to worry about me.”

“But I do,” Fred insisted. “And not out of pity, either. I care about you, Hermione. And all you’ve ever done, as long as I’ve known you, is overwork yourself.”

The confession came a bit rushed out of his mouth as if he’d really been holding it in for over ten years. Hermione was unsure of what to do with this. She’d never really had someone genuinely concerned over her burnout. She was used to Ron’s, and even Harry’s dismissive attitude when it came to her work habits. There would be moments, yes, like in her third year when her stress had really been cause for worry. But other than that, it wasn’t taken seriously. Hermione just worked too hard, that was who she was. And while her rigorous ambition was a huge benefit to her schoolwork and career, Hermione always felt like she wouldn’t know when to stop until it was too late. She’d work and work and everyone would think it was fine. She’d never had someone tell her anything to the contrary.

“Yes, well,” Hermione straightened her shirt. She suddenly found it difficult to look Fred in the eyes. “You’ve done a fair job of keeping me from my work all week.” She cleared her throat, finally looking up at him. “So, I suppose I should thank you…for making sure I don’t fall in too deep.”

A smile grew from Fred’s lips at her words. His freckled face was soft, caring. Hermione thought she could get lost in the look of affection coming from his deep brown eyes.

“Anytime, love.”

 

They sat and drank for a while. Paperwork forgotten, Hermione allowed herself to relax, just for the night. They talked as the candle beside them burned lower on its wick. They reminisced, they joked. Fred made her laugh. He was good at that. Hermione felt heat at her face that she knew wasn’t from the alcohol this time.

“Alright.”

“Okay.”

“Draco Malfoy.”

“NO!” Fred nearly fell over in his seat at Hermione’s confession.

“It’s true.” She laughed through her shame. “It was... fourth year, after the Yule Ball. I had run off because Ronald had, well...”

“He’d been a prick.”

“He’d been difficult, yes. Anyway, I ran off to some corridor and Malfoy was there, alone and looking quite surly. I was in no mood to deal with him, as you could imagine, so a snide comment he had made hadn’t been received well.”

Fred had leant in on one arm, attention rapt.

Hermione tentatively approached her next words. “So, we were shouting, and... the next thing I knew we were snogging.”

“Oh my god.” Fred’s giggled, disbelief and awe in his voice. “Did you get him, or did he do you first?”

“I... believe I kissed him.” Hermione smiled at Fred’s scoff. “It was all very fast and emotionally charged... I don’t remember clearly.”

“Hermione,” Fred shook his head, chastising. “I thought you had better judgement than that.”

“I was fourteen!” She defended, playfully shoving against Fred’s arm. “I was a wreck of emotions and hormones. Not one of us was mentally sound at that age.”

“Some of us more than others.” Fred took a sip of his beer, muttering. “ _Malfoy? The ferret?_ ”

“And you?” Hermione took this moment to flip focus. “Who was your most Embarrassing Kiss?”

“Angelina.”

“No way.”

“Yes. Sixth year,” Fred smirked. “I was all hands and she was having absolutely none of it. She finally slapped me and that put an end to things quick.”

“Amazing,” Hermione nearly choked on her beer. “And how are Miss Johnson and Bell?”

“Got their wedding invitation in the mail a few weeks ago.” Fred smiled. “I’m surprised Katie let that one go through. Would have thought they’d sent the invite to the wrong twin.”

“And should they also expect a toilet seat for a wedding gift?”

“That was an inside joke for me and my sister only,” Fred explained. “Harry is lucky to have been the recipient of that shared family memento.”

Hermione was in stitches. She felt warmth in her cheek from the beer and laughter. Her balance swayed in her seat as she caught her breath. Fred laughed with her, one hand supporting her arm. She straightened, taking a moment to collect herself.

“You are absolutely ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously generous.”

“What a gift!” Hermione broke into giggles again. “I only hope you don’t pull the same nonsense at my wedding.”

“Now, Hermione, why would I send a gift to myself?” Fred eyed her over his bottle, quirking the corner of his mouth.

Hermione’s giggling faded out as her face heated. She could do nothing under his stare but roll her eyes and ignore the bubbling in her stomach.

With his point made, Fred stretched against the couch.

Hermione leant back, taking a second to admire the curve of his neck. Had his jawline always been so sharp?

“Do you remember,” Hermione began, voice a little softer than before. “When we were in school, during one Quidditch match, you hit Montague right in the chest with a bludger?”

“How could I forget?” Fred chuckled at the memory. He rolled his head back. “Nearly knocked him off his broom. He spun upside down at least a dozen times from the impact.”

“And how you disrupted the entire game, whooping and hollering around the field with that ridiculous smile on your face.”

“I always found my ridiculous smile quite charming, actually,”

“That feeling you get,” Hermione continued, “That pride and excitement and fun, is what I feel every time I finish an assignment.”

“Pretty sure I’ve never seen you whoop and holler after closing a book.” Fred joked.

“I’m not quite as excitable as you about it,” Hermione laughed, “But the feeling is just as strong.”

“You’ve never hit Montague with a bludger before, have you?”

“No, but I’ve punched Malfoy.” Hermione reminded him with a smirk. “I’m familiar with the rush.”

“Get the same kind of rush from snogging him silly?”

“Sod off.” She rolled her eyes, pushing against his arm again.

There was a moment of silence as the two let their laughter fall away. The candle had burnt to a small flicker.

“I really do miss watching you play.” Hermione felt the words falling from her loosened composure. “I came to the games to support Harry and the rest of Gryffindor, of course. But, well...you know how some matches are for me... you were always the one to make it more interesting.”

“Come off it,” Fred ran a thumb down the bottle of his beer, dipping his head to hide his smile.

“No, really.” Hermione felt herself giggle. “Your grandstanding and risk-taking—though sometimes arrogant and stupidly dangerous—was really the best part of every game. I don’t think I’d ever enjoyed one fully until I started watching you play. And even just a few days ago… I saw you playing in the field…You are captivating.”

Heat rose to her face as the realization of what she had said dawned on her. Fred met her eyes. Hermione didn’t know why, but she was suddenly considering his distance from her on the couch to be quite bothersome.

“Careful with all these compliments, Granger,” Fred brought the bottle to lips. “Wouldn’t want my head to get any bigger.”

 

They carried on until the candle had flickered out entirely. Sleep had already begun to weigh on Hermione’s eyelids, so they decided it was best to head up to bed. Fred rose from the couch with a yawn. He offered Hermione his hand. He did not protest when she looped her arm around his on their way back upstairs. When they stopped at her door, he fixed her with a look that made Hermione’s insides twist. Her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment she felt warming anticipation. When he leant in and placed a delicate kiss on the top of her head, Hermione blushed deeper than she had all night.

“Goodnight, Hermione,” he murmured against her forehead.

“Goodnight, Fred,” her response came weakly.

Hermione’s heart pounded in her chest as she closed the door. Suddenly very awake, she lay on her bed and listened to the creak of floorboards as Fred made his way upstairs.

He had smelled of pine and fireworks.

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

Hermione awoke the next day feeling a haze of warm, confusing feelings flooding back to her. Her frizzing locks curled against her pillow as she stared at the ceiling and made no attempt to get up.

Her mind, always full of spells and textbooks, felt crowded with small details she hadn’t noticed before. Fred had a darker patch of freckles below his left eye. He tugged at his hair when he talked. He liked to peel back the label of his bottle. His hands were always moving, always tapping and rubbing and tracing. He had an energy that bubbled out of him in his laughter, in the way he talked, in how he looked at her.

She thought of when that energy had stilled. That rare, sweet moment of his soft lips against her forehead. His fingers had pulled at her wrist with delicate attention. She thought of his eyelashes and how she was close enough to count them. How his breath hit her cheek and how warm her name sounded on his lips.

Hermione whipped her body upright. She patted her blushing face, attempting a proper rousing. She let out a huff when the swooping sensation in her stomach at the thought of Fred Weasley being very close to her and smelling very nice did nothing to help start her day. She needed coffee. That should do it.

 

Fred arrived at the breakfast table with his usual amount of swagger. “Good morning, everyone.” His hair was combed, and shirt was pressed. Hermione averted her eyes when she began considering how tall he was.

“Dearest sister.” With a flourish of his hand, Fred greeted Ginny as normal, kissing her cheek. This time, Ginny had no complaints, as her brother had freshly shaved. When Fred moved to prepare himself a plate, Hermione was only slightly disappointed that she did not receive a similar greeting. Thoughts of the previous night flashed in her memory, and she decided it would be best not to pursue that line of thinking now, as she was turning a slight shade of pink at the breakfast table.

“Morning,” Ginny said as she flipped through the paper. “Any plans for the day?”

“Yes, believe it or not.” Fred poured himself a cup of coffee. “I was thinking of taking a walk in the woods to look for a flower George and I have been needing for one of our products. It’s a variety of Nightshade that should do well to help our new line of Daydream Draught. There should be patches of it around here, so I thought I’d go on a business excursion through the forests.”

Ginny nodded as she stirred sugar into her tea.

“Hermione,” Fred called her name and she snapped to attention. “Would you like to join me?”

“Yes,” she answered quickly, almost too eager. “I mean, actually, er… Are you sure there would be any… need for me? I’m a bit rusty on my herbology cataloguing.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that.” Fred shrugged, “My reasons for asking are purely unprofessional.”

Ginny’s head shot up at this. She gaped at her brother, unsure if she had heard him correctly. He ignored her stare as he looked to Hermione with a breezy expression. Hermione was floundering, absolutely blindsided by this unabashed honesty.

“I—er,” Hermione’s face blushed red. “R-really?”

“Yes,” Fred said coolly, “I would just like to enjoy your company.”

Ginny’s eyes had widened impossibly large. She looked between her friend and brother, wordlessly asking a million questions. Hermione couldn’t look at her, too caught in the unbreaking stare of Fred’s eyes on hers.

She took a moment for the word to form fully, caught up in the swooping sensation that had once again overcome her stomach. She didn’t bother hiding her smile. “Alright. Yes, I’d love to join you.”

“Excellent,” Fred finished his coffee with a final swig. He stood up and extended a hand to her. “Let’s go.”

Hermione took his hand without hesitation, letting him lift her up and lead her out the door. She cast a final look back at Ginny, whose eyes rang a warning of _“we will talk about this later”_ as she left the house.

 

Fred hadn’t let go of her hand. On the contrary, he had linked their fingers together and was idly swinging them as they walked. She pretended to be taking in the scenery as she watched him out of the corner of her eye. Aside from the slight hint of pink to his freckled complexion, he made no indication that he was doing anything out of the ordinary. Hermione bit back her smile and followed in his example of pretending this was a normal thing for the two of them to be doing. She felt the soft pressure of his thumb stroking her knuckles and decided she wouldn’t mind if this became a habit.

The day was thick with humidity. A deep grey cloud hung on the edge of the horizon, the only spot of trouble in the bluest blue sky. Hermione kept running her free fingers through her tight curls, trying in vain to rid them of their frizz. She suddenly felt very conscious of it.

She glanced at Fred as he searched among the foliage. He would crane his neck occasionally, perhaps spotting a flower but not the one he needed. The winding path they had started on was growing thicker with trees. Hermione tried her best to help with the search, pointing out different spots of colour she would see. Fred shook his head.

“It will be the prettiest flower in the forest.” He told her after another false alarm. “Well.” He grinned down at her. “Second prettiest.”

It took all of Hermione’s efforts to not roll her eyes.

They spent the better part of the afternoon following the trail. The maze of blooming greenery wound them along their hunt. They came to a creek and Fred helped her cross a mossy log. Hermione didn’t protest when his hand rested on her waist and held there a moment too long.

Fred asked her about work, she asked about his. He told her about his plans for the shop with wonder in his eyes. She talked of the headway she’d made with pride glowing on her face. They kept talking, laughing and nearly forgetting what they’d wandered out for in the first place. Their adventure came to its apex when Hermione registered a spot of purple in the distance.

“Oh!” She pointed, and Fred followed the direction.

“That’s it!” A smile spread across his face. He gave her hand a little squeeze and lead the dash over to the flower.

The silky petals were a deep lavender. Fred released her hand so he could crouch down to get a better look at it. He was careful as he took a handkerchief from his pocket and snipped the stem.

“It’s not poisonous, is it?” Hermione asked, recalling the dangers of Nightshade.

“No,” Fred shook his head as he straightened up. “Its alkaloid levels are low enough that when brewed in a potion, its only remaining effects are its hallucinogens.”

“Should I be concerned that you will be selling it in your joke shop?” Hermione smiled at him.

“No more concerned than usual.” He chuckled, holding the flower between the two of them. “Although, it is dangerous in this form.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

Fred couldn’t stop the coy smile gracing his lips. “It’s supposed to have amortentia-like effects.” He said, a bit breathless. “Makes your body temperature rise and your heart rate increase. It’s nature’s natural love potion.”

“Is it really?” Hermione wasn’t looking at the flower.

“No,” Fred smiled as Hermione stared at him. “But I thought maybe that could be one explanation.”

Hermione grinned. She didn’t realize she had stepped closer to him. Their eyes locked in contact for one long moment. Hermione felt an urge to bridge the gap between them. Her heart thudded in her ears and she lost herself in the scent of pine and fireworks.

Thunder rang out, deep and shaking. A blink of silence, and it was raining. Suddenly and violently, they were both soaking wet.

Fred grabbed her hand again and they ran for cover under a tall hanging tree. Hermione, whose thick mass of curls had matted down completely, cast an Impervius charm on the lower branches. They both took a moment to catch their breath. Fred shook his head, drops of water flying off his copper hair. Hermione grabbed a clump of her skirt and tried to squeeze it dry. They looked at each other—at their breathless, wet state—and laughed.

 

After half an hour, the rain looked no closer to letting up. Fred had cast a drying spell on their clothes and hair, and now the wind felt closer to a pleasant breeze on their warmed bodies. Hermione stared at the sheets of grey bringing haze to the forest. She sighed and sat down next to Fred. In a moment of daring, she leant her head on his shoulder, and he accepted her easily, like she belonged there.

“Looks like we could be here for a while.” She admitted, watching the falling rain.

“Looks like it,” Fred said, though he did not sound at all disappointed.

Hermione hummed. She felt the warmth of Fred’s neck against her forehead. Her ear pressed into his collar, and she could feel his heartbeat. They sat and listened to the rain.

“I have a favour to ask you,” Hermione spoke up after a moment. Her voice was soft.

“Yes?” Fred responded, just as soft.

“I’ve been thinking,” she began. “And, really it’s only been a recent thought. I’m not quite sure where it came from. But since you got here, I haven’t been able to shake it from my mind. It’s really never been something I’ve considered seriously. And asking you like this seems quite silly…”

“What is it, Hermione?”

“I was thinking I might like to try... flying.”

There was a beat of pause before Fred responded. “This rain might make that a bit tricky.” His smile could be heard in his voice.

“Not right now,” she nudged his shoulder with her own. “Later. On one of your spare brooms. I’ve… I’ve never been very fond of flying,—"

“You absolutely hate it.” He corrected.

“But I figure I very well can’t live in fear of it forever.” Hermione continued. “So, I thought you might… If it’s not too much trouble… I was thinking you could teach me how? Later, of course, before I… well… Before I… leave.”

“Ah,” Fred said plainly. He seemed to feel her hesitance in accepting departure from the Burrow. Summer was coming to an end and each day she had spent there was better than the last. She could let herself admit it was because the man beside her had proven himself to be wonderful company. She did not want to go yet.

“Alright,” Fred spoke after a moment. Hermione lifted her head and looked up at him. He was smiling.

“As soon as the weather lets up, I’ll teach you to fly.”

Hermione felt a rush of warmth to her face as she beamed back.

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

Hermione came downstairs on the third day of rain to a grey and dreary morning. The weather had not improved for even a moment. If anything, it had gotten worse. The pond outside was flooding and the patchwork roof of the Burrow leaked in places. If it wasn’t for Mrs Weasley’s skilful spell work, Hermione was sure the whole house would have washed away. Lightning struck and thunder rumbled and the constant barrage of raindrops on windows seemed a fitting soundtrack to Hermione’s last evening with the Weasleys.

The house was mostly empty. Everyone was out doing something, or busy with someone, or other reasons Hermione hadn’t been paying attention to. The only other person home was the solitary redhead in the living room, propped up in an armchair, book in his lap.

“What are you reading?” Hermione asked Fred as she entered. He glanced up at her from his seat and smiled. She moved to sit next to him on the arm of his chair.

Fred grinned up at her and moved his arm to better accommodate her in his space. “ _Dune_.”

“That’s a muggle book,” Hermione said with a bit of surprise in her voice.

“It is,” Fred said. “Dad had a few lying around when we were younger. Wasn’t as into them as he is with muggle gadgets, but I thought they were cool.”

“I didn’t know you liked science fiction.”

“Science is fiction.” Fred shrugged. “Why specify?”

“That is so not true, it’s concerning.” Hermione laughed. She nodded at the rain. “Well, it seems fitting to read about a desert planet on a day like today.”

“Yes, I thought I might need a change of scenery.” Fred chuckled. He closed the book and set it down on the side table. He looked at Hermione decidedly.

“C’mere.” He took a hold of her arm. Hermione let herself be tugged from the armrest and into his lap. She felt her blush but did not protest when Fred’s arms wrapped casually around her form. They settled in. Hermione tucked her head under his chin and Fred’s fingers played at the hem of her skirt. They sat for a while, comfortably silent as the rain pounded through the morning. Hermione enjoyed the warmth of his breath on her cheek.

“So,” Hermione’s voice came out quietly. “Tomorrow is my last day. Here.” She gave a gesture towards the grey windows, water running down their front. “And I don’t think the weather is going to get any better.”

Fred let out a sigh, ruffling her hair with his breath. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Not great to fly in.”

“Not really.”

“Do you think,” Hermione began tentatively. “We could maybe… try anyway?”

Fred moved to look down at her. “You want me to teach you how to fly in this storm?”

“I bet I could do it,” Her voice held some determination as she sat up a bit. “It really isn’t that bad out there and you’ve played in worse conditions than this. I think it will be okay. It’s our last chance.”

Hermione let that linger. Their last chance. Their last few hours together. Hermione wouldn’t let a bit of rain take that away from them.

Fred caught the implication easily. He nodded, smiling. “I’ll get my jacket.”

 

It really was quite a lot of rain.

Hermione shivered as Fred retrieved his broom from the Burrow’s shed, grabbing one of Ginny’s spares for Hermione. It was an older model, not as fast nor as tricky to handle. It quivered slightly as she took it in her hands but calmed after a moment as if sensing her nervousness. Hermione followed Fred through the wet grass until they stood in the centre of their backyard field. His jacket whipped in the wind as he mounted his broom. Hermione followed, not as confidently. The wood felt weak under her weight. She did not like the thought of it being the only support between her body and gravity.

“Ready?” Fred called to her over the wind, hair wet and sticking to his forehead.

Hermione gave a nod that was stronger than she felt. Her knuckles were white against the handle. She was shaking.

Fred moved closer to her. He saw the worry in her eyes.

“If you can fly in this, you can fly in anything. Now, Hermione, look at me.” Fred took hold of her shoulders, brown eyes locking on her own. “If you need to stop, for any reason, at any time, we stop. This is on your terms. I want you to feel safe.”

Hermione looked at him. His face was serious, a source of stability in the chaos of the storm. She took a moment to breath and clutched her broom tighter.

“I’m ready.”

 

They started slow. The basics, with some noticeable Fred Weasley Flair on some things. When showing her how to control her height, he added an extra step of kicking back on the broom and letting go of the handle. Hermione could not afford to be so casual. With every movement, she felt the broom fight her inexperience. It wouldn’t listen to her properly. When she tried to go up, it veered to the right.

“Just relax,” Fred called. “Take a breath. Grip the handle with your palm and loosen your fingers.”

The broom’s hitching calmed as Hermione adjusted her hands. She still felt the quivering of the tentative altitude she had acquired. She had shifted her weight and her broom gave another slight jump. Startled, she fumbled to regain balance and overcorrected horribly. The broom tipped her back drastically, and she grabbed for the air, falling.

She felt two strong arms supporting her back. Fred had glided easily over to her and caught her before she had been bucked off the broom entirely.

She felt her face heat up, more from embarrassment than anything.

“I’m really no good at this.” She slicked a strand of hair away from her face. The rain pelted down on them.

“You’re doing wonderfully.” Fred laughed good-naturedly.

“It doesn’t feel like it.” Her voice was strained.

“Hermione.” He spoke to her softly, arms still holding her steady. “Relax. I’m right here. I won’t let you fall.”

Her face heated for other reasons now. “This is... embarrassing.”

“No, you’re fine.” Fred smiled.

“I am a grown woman and I can’t even fly a broom.”

“No one’s forcing you to,”

“I know,” Hermione avoided his eyes. “I know. I just... I need to.”

“We can stop if you’re scared.”

“I’m not.” She said quickly. “Well, actually, I am.” A laugh broke in her voice. “I’m petrified. But I’ll be okay. I need to do this. You’re right. You’ve been right all month… I need to relax.” Hermione’s eyes closed and she let out an exhale of resolve.

Once calmed, she turned to Fred, a bit of mischief behind her eyes. “And I really can’t let you be better than me at anything.”

“Oh-ho!” Fred laughed. He held her at arm’s length. “Is that the way it is, Granger?”

“It is.” Hermione giggled.

“Well, then,” Fred let go and Hermione was surprised to find the broom steady. “I did not realize this was a competition. By all means, show me what you’ve got, love.”

Fred gave her space, the rain falling in sheets between them. He crossed his arms and wore an amused expression as he watched Hermione get reacquainted with her broom.

From then on, things smoothed. The broom eased to her touch and would let her perform the movements she wanted it to. She was soon rising and turning easily and couldn’t help the pride she felt.

“Excellent, Hermione!” Fred beamed at her. “You’re doing great. Let’s see a few more twists and then I’ve got a challenge for you.”

Hermione liked challenges. Academic ones, preferably, but the motivation to do well carried over to her flying. She could pick up speed with more confidence. Her wet hair flew back from her face as she tore through the rain. The rush was exciting. Her heart rate kept her elated through the rough weather. Though the sky was grey with difficult visibility, she knew she was doing well, and that kept her going. She focused on the task without thinking of how high she was above the ground.

She was feeling better when she performed a sharp turn perfectly, hair whipping back behind her. She flew to where Fred waited for her and stopped promptly beside him.

“Wonderful.” Fred smiled. “Now, how about a race?”

“Alright,” Hermione dared, eyeing him. “Promise not to go easy on me?”

“With you?” He said. “Never.”

He pulled something out of his pocket. The golden ball twitched in his hand.

“One of Ginny’s old practice Snitches,” Fred explained. “It just shoots, full speed, in one direction. First one to catch it wins?”

Hermione chuckled as the ball fought desperately against Fred’s hold on it. “You’re on.”

“Ready,” he held up the Snitch, its golden glow bright in the grey haze of rain. “Set,” he and Hermione adjusted themselves on their brooms. “Go!”

With a flick of his wrist, Fred released the Snitch and the two of them kicked off.

Hermione shot through the air, rain hitting her face as she pushed faster and faster on her broom. She kept her focus on the small bit of gold as it dashed further from her. She glanced to her right and saw Fred matching her speed. His hair was soaked and spiking from the wind. When he caught her eye he winked and, leaning forward, his broom picked up speed. He was ahead of her now, gaining on the Snitch.

Hermione clutched the handle of her own broom and silently pleaded with the bit of wood. _Faster, please, don’t drop me, please._ She dared a glance down. Her stomach sank when she saw just how far up they were. She swallowed, shutting her eyes tight and bringing back her focus. She needed to relax. Things were going to be okay. With a determined stare forward, tracking the Snitch’s movement as it zipped ahead, Hermione leaned in and began to speed up.

She caught up to Fred. She didn’t look at him as she passed. She concentrated straight ahead. She was getting closer now. The Snitch was only a few feet from her. She steeled herself and dared to let go of the broom with one hand. She reached forward, feeling the small shakes as she begged the broom to not let her fall. She leaned, stretching as far as she could. The Snitch was close, three feet, a foot, a few inches. Hermione gave a daring grab through the icy rain and felt her hand wrap around the cold bit of metal.

She had done it.

She felt relief wrack her entire body. The tension in her shoulders fell as she let her broom gradually slow its speed. She came to the ground and was surprised when her legs were strong enough to stand. She heard Fred land on the grass behind her.

“That was incredible, Hermione!” He beamed. “Spectacular! I am so proud of you.”

She felt her smile pull. There was a swooping in her stomach at the sight of him, wet and grinning so wide. She ran to him, feet soaked in the rain and mud. In her rush of adrenaline and excitement and relief and happiness, she wrapped her arms around Fred’s neck and kissed him firmly.

He accepted her quickly, kissing her back with equal fervour. The momentum of her impact knocked their balance, and he lifted her up as he held her. Her jacket clung heavy to her, but she didn’t care. She let Fred hold her, the warmth of his breath bringing comfort through the biting wind.

They broke apart and rain trailed down their faces. She kept him close, a hand on the back of his neck while he clutched her waist.

“I did it,” she smiled, noses pressing together.

“I never doubted you.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Now, let’s get out of this rain.”

“And out of these clothes.”

Fred laughed, “My next line of thinking, yes, absolutely.”

She giggled and he kissed her again. Hermione melted into his touch.

They stood there, rain covering every inch of them. Cold and wet, yet warmer and safer than Hermione had ever felt. As Fred held her and smiled against her lips, Hermione wondered how she could possibly worry about anything ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! I have one more chapter left
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please feel free to leave a comment! What was your favorite part? Did I do anything super well? Super great? super fantastic? let me know! I promise you will make my day.


	3. Epilogue

They were quick, they were intense, they were soaked from the rain.

In their rush back to the Burrow, they forgot to cast drying spells, but neither of them cared. Fred was kissing her as they fumbled down the hall, and Hermione was glad they were the only ones home. She flung their jackets aside into a wet pile by the door. She would tidy up later.

Hermione combed her fingers through the copper locks of Fred’s hair, gripping and tugging. She smirked against his skin as he lifted her off her feet. She wrapped her legs around his torso and held him as close as possible. He kept his hold on her tightly as he carried her upstairs.

When they entered his bedroom, he threw her down on the bed. He moved from her only to shut and lock the door with his wand, then returned his mouth to her lips. He reached to remove his shirt, and Hermione was quick to follow. He kissed down her chest, tongue leaving hot trails along her skin.

If she had been in any mood to be embarrassed, Hermione would be absolutely ashamed of the noises Fred Weasley was purring in her ear. He moaned against her touch. With a bite of his lip, he held back a particularity emphatic gasp as Hermione’s hands trailed down his thighs.

Hungry, wanting, his hands never rested on one point of her for too long. He pressed his fingers along her back and was soon clutching her hips and then cradling her face. He touched her entirely, taking in as much as he could and savouring every bit of it. He kissed her with cherishing fervency. With every movement their skin met with a wave of heat and passion.

His hand landed at her waist, and only then did he hesitate. He looked up at her, eyes asking for permission. She kissed him fully, meeting his hand to guide him in sliding off her skirt.

Hermione pushed back against his pressing form above her. With a small break in the contact of their lips, she locked eyes with him. Fred looked to her, questioning and interrupted. She grabbed his shoulders. With a fluid motion, she was flipping their position, climbing on top of him and straddling his hips with her thighs.  
This action was received quite well. Fred looked up at her with a surge of ardour and grabbed a knot of her hair. He pulled her into a deep kiss coupled with a steady grind of his hips up into hers. With the contact, he let out what could only be described as a whine. 

She pressed against him, hands searching down his skin and leaving heat in their wake. Fred moaned against her mouth as Hermione’s finger hooked the strap of his trousers. He gave a wanting thrust of his hips. Hermione’s breath caught, shaken by the needy, wordless murmurs in her ear. The electricity of their contact brought a whimper from a point deep in her throat, and Fred was soon kissing at every bit of it.

Fred pulled her down tight, holding and kissing and loving every inch of her. Hermione smiled on the skin of his neck as her hips rolled against him. Fred looked up at her, face flushed. Hermione met his gaze as he entered her. She felt as though the whole room could melt away and she would not care in the slightest.

“Woah, woah, Hermione, wait,” his voice was thick.

“What?” She pulled her hand away from his chest immediately. “What is it?”

“You…” His face twisted to a look of concern and Hermione felt dread sink in her stomach. “Look _so bloody gorgeous_ right now. You have to stop. I must memorize every detail of this moment. You’re too perfect.”

Relief crashed through her. “Fred,” she huffed at the man lying below her. In a flush of annoyance, she smacked his face. “Don’t _scare_ me like that! I thought I’d done something wrong!”

Fred laughed endearingly and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry!” He giggled against her skin, kissing her temple. “I’m sorry. No, darling, you’re doing everything right.”  
“Good.” She let out a tempered sigh. She kissed him firmly, and he smiled into her lips.  
Her movements picked up, hips rising and falling against him, and he clawed at her skin.  
“Is this alright?” Hermione’s voice wavered, looking down at the dishevelled face of Fred Weasley. “Are you okay?”  
He looked to her with all the affection in the world.  
“Hermione,” his voice was tight with restraint. “I trust you with my entire life. This is wonderful, and you are beautiful. Now keep going.”

They continued, and nothing had ever felt more right. They moved and flowed together in seamless rhythm. They kissed and touched and held until they were finishing in a rush of clutching fingers and shaking breath. Hermione let her weight fall to her elbows, panting over Fred’s exhausted form. He reached up to pull her onto his sweaty skin. She listened as his heartbeat pounded against his ribcage. The beat of it harmonized with the steady rain hitting the window.

“Now, that was…” Hermione let out a breathy sigh.

“Exemplary?” Fred smirked up at her.

“I was going to say _fun_ ,” Hermione laughed, filling her lungs with air. “But yes, you get full marks. Well done, Mr. Weasley.”

“Thank you,” he gave a panting laugh. His hands brushed her long hair away from her neck. “It was quite a bit of fun, wasn’t it?”

“I’ve never had it be _fun_ before…”

Fred considered this, then kissed her cheek. “Then I know for a fact you’ve been with some rubbish blokes.”

“Not a nice thing to say about your brother.”

“You do _not_ need to bring Ron into this moment, Hermione.”

“Who said I was talking about Ron?”

“Well, if you say it was George, I might die.” Fred chuckled. “He’s already stolen Oliver from me, and I don’t think I could stand it if he took you too.”

She kissed him. “I would never.”

“I know.” He smiled softly. 

The sheets they lay in were bunched around them in a nest of cotton. Fred’s fingers walked patterns down her back. Hermione played with the short hair at his ear. The rain outside echoed in calming waves.

“This was wonderful.” Fred wrapped his arms tightly around her waist. “So much better than I imagined.”

“It was quite lovely,” Hermione said, face still flushed.

“I’ve wanted to do this all month.”

“I know you have.” She ran a hand along his arm.

He looked up at her. “Was I that obvious?”

“Yes.” Hermione chuckled lightly as Fred groaned in embarrassment. “But don’t worry. I’ve wanted it for much longer.”

“ _You have!?_ ” His head popped up, looking to her with hopeful eyes. “Since when?”

“Let’s see...” She recounted, taking a moment to drag it out the suspense. “It was… last New Year’s. We were drinking, and you had been talking to me about your new line of products. Percy doubted your ability to make a hair-growth potion.”

“Ah, yeah,” Fred grinned, remembering.

“And while it wasn’t _posed_ as a challenge, you, very drunkenly, took it upon yourself to prove him wrong.”

Fred giggled, leaning into her shoulder. “I bet him fifteen galleons I could have it done within the hour.”

“It took you twenty minutes, tops.” Hermione’s smile only widened with her laughter. “You burst into the room, took a giant swig of the stuff, and your hair grew a full twenty feet! You were pulling it back frantically and yelling—”

“ _’Fuck you, Percy, hand over the galleons!’_ ” Fred finished for her.

They both collapsed into each other, laughing. He stroked the base of her neck with his thumb. She traced the freckles on his shoulder.

“I believe he took points off because you didn’t grow a beard.” She recalled.

“That was intentional!” Fred exclaimed. “I look monstrous with one. Plus, if I mixed it for that, it would have grown _all_ of my body hair! Do not underestimate the magnitude of twenty-foot pubic hair.”

Hermione snorted. “Well, I was impressed. You managed to make that potion perfectly, _and_ you were absolutely _pissed._ ”

“Not to mention how handsome I looked with my long ginger locks.”

“I was honestly a little disappointed when you cut it.”

“Were you really?”

“Not at all,” Hermione said, scrunching up her nose. 

“So, that was it?” Fred’s grin was impossibly wide. “That was the moment you decided to shag me senseless?”

“More or less.” Hermione couldn’t contain her giggles. “Your pride has always been my weakness.” She tucked into his neck, breathing in his scent. Pine and fireworks.

“It caught my attention when we were younger…” She said softly. “Despite how much you frustrated me, nearly every single day, I could not help but be impressed by you… What you and George have accomplished… The shop, your inventions, and potions… It’s incredible. _You_ are incredible.”

He kissed her, cupping her chin in his palm. “Hermione, you can’t make me cry after sex, it’s much too embarrassing.”

She laughed and set herself up on her elbows to look at him properly.

“And how about you?” She asked, turning the subject back around. “When did you start to see me like that? I know it wasn’t just this past month.”

“How very self-assured, Granger.” Fred raised an eyebrow at her. “But yes, you are correct,” he took her hand and pressed at the pads of her fingertips. “I’ve been mad for you for a while now.”

Hermione smiled and felt more heat rise to her cheeks.

“As long as I can remember.” He admitted. “There doesn’t seem to be a defining point of when I wasn’t and when I was. It just snuck up on me. In a way, I always have, even when I haven’t. Does that make sense?”

“It does,” Hermione nodded. “In a completely unsatisfactory kind of way.”

Fred chuckled. “Yeah, sorry. I don’t have a clear answer for you.”

“No, it’s alright.” She smiled. “I don’t need one.” She ran her fingers through his hair. “That explains why you’ve spent so much time bothering me over our ten years.”

“I was _flirting_ with you,”

“I know, and it was quite bothersome.” Hermione kissed him chaste on the lips. “I don’t know how I survived this month. You were more trouble than usual.” She let her head fall back with a long sigh. “Oh, couldn’t you have just swept me off my feet the moment you walked through the door? It would have been much easier.”

“And miss out on three whole weeks of teasing you? Absolutely not.” Fred kissed her nose. “But next time, love, I’ll be quick about it. Can’t be cutting into your busy schedule with things like romance.”

Hermione laughed. “Thank you,”

They were in no rush to leave the bed. In truth, they stayed there until what little light from outside began to fade. There would be things to do in the morning. People to see and goodbyes to share. But for now, they stayed. Intertwined limbs and the rhythm of heartbeats, Hermione was perfectly content.

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

Hermione slept in her own bed that night. They thought it best, considering George came home just mere seconds after her departure from the twins’ room. She just barely shut the door before she heard the crack of his apparition down the hall.

She rushed off to her own room, fearing the worst of George’s knowing grins when he would see her, damp hair and flushed face, emerging from his brother’s bedroom. And though she trusted George to keep things on the down low, she’d rather not deal with it at the moment. In this small house, peaceful secrets had a rapid half-life. She knew going down to breakfast with Fred in the morning would raise some eyebrows in the Burrow. Ginny would definitely have a lot more than _silent_ questions to throw at her. And with Harry here, she knew her short list of trusted people would soon be in the know. Hermione only prayed that Ron would not hear about her and Fred through his sister—or worse—his mother. 

But now was not the time to worry about messy, weird, familial baggage. Now was time for breakfast, and Ginny had prepared a damned good one.

“Morning,” Hermione greeted both her and Harry when she arrived downstairs. 

“G’morning,” Harry and Ginny said, both of them appearing to have been awake for hours.

“Sleep well?” There was a twinge of something in Ginny’s voice that made Hermione’s lip quirk.

“Yes, I did.” Hermione grabbed a plate of fruit, casual and cool. “I had a rather exhausting day.”

“I bet you did,” Harry smirked into his cup of coffee and Ginny nudged him with a stifled giggle.

Ah, well. So much for peaceful secrets.

Hermione’s stomach dipped as the all-too-familiar sound of swaggering footsteps landed on the stairs. Fred entered the kitchen and could not have had better timing.

“Morning, everyone.” He said with a wave of his hand. 

The three of them returned the greeting with varying degrees of investment. As Fred rounded the counter to grab himself breakfast, he whistled aimlessly. Hermione avoided the look Ginny gave her over her toast. Fred returned to the table with a smile that seemed a little too bright for so early in the morning.

“Dearest sister.” He brought his lips down to Ginny’s freckled cheek. “Dearest Harry.” With a laugh, Harry accepted the same treatment. “And…” Fred turned, keeping his expression even. “Dearest Hermione.”

Hermione felt only the slightest brush of his hand against hers as he kissed her cheek. She bit back a smile as she ignored Harry and Ginny’s eyes on them. Fred acted as natural as ever, settling into the seat beside her.

“I’m guessing you got enough rest?” Ginny smirked at her brother. “You look—”

“Chipper,” Harry offered.

“Yes, you’re really _glowing_ ,” Ginny said, and it was Harry’s turn to nudge her.

“I did.” Fred stirred his coffee. “Rested well. Had a bit of an exhausting day.”

“So we’ve heard.” Harry’s smirk was unbearably cheeky as his wife let out a laugh.

Fred raised an eyebrow at them. His gaze flickered to Hermione, imperceptibly quick, but he carried on.

“Any exciting plans today?” Ginny asked, calming herself.

“You know, actually yes,” Fred set his cup down. “There’s this bookshelf I’ve been meaning to put together. Hermione, would you mind heading upstairs with me to help build it?”

Hermione saw Ginny look to Harry out of the corner of her eye. 

“Not at all,” Hermione said, her expression neutral. She set her silverware down and stood with Fred. “I would love to help.”

“Great,” Fred nodded and lead the way.

Hermione allowed one look over her shoulder to see Ginny and Harry huddled together in whispered conversation. When Hermione met his eye, Harry gave her a wink. Hermione allowed a small smirk and followed Fred upstairs.

 

“ _Building a bookshelf_? Really?” Hermione said to him in a hushed tone. “Subtle.”

“Well, I couldn’t let on to the real reason for getting you alone in my room, now, could I?” Fred grabbed for her hand and intertwined their fingers. They made it down the hall. “Though I gathered they’ve got a pretty good idea already.”

“Yes, you aren’t exactly subtle.” She giggled quietly. 

“You know it, love.” He said. “How much time do you reckon we’ve got? Fifteen, twenty minutes? How long does it take to build a bookshelf?”

“With magic, about three seconds.” Hermione chuckled as Fred turned the doorknob to his room. 

“Well, darling, that’s not nearly enough time for all the things I want you to do to me.”

“We’ll just tell them we forgot about magic.” Hermione followed him into the room.

“Yes, of course.” Fred turned to kiss her neck.

“And I think a bookshelf would take a bit longer. About forty-five minutes?” Hermione murmured in his ear.

“Sounds reasonable,” He pressed into her.

“And I don’t think we need to worry,” She spoke between his lips. “If we happen to make some undignified noises—”

“Rigorous work, building a bookshelf.” He kissed at her jaw.

“And if we end up hot and sweating…”

“Don’t worry,” Fred hooked her leg around his hips. “We will.”

Hermione reached for her wand and locked the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND THAT'S THAT, FOLKS!!!!
> 
> thank you so so much for reading and I really hope you enjoyed it! I had a great time writing this and i hope i have met all your expectations ahah
> 
> as always, please let me know what scenes or dialogue you liked most. it will help me get a better idea for more Fremione fics i may write in the future! i love this ship and i want to give them the very best treatment.
> 
> Thanks again!

**Author's Note:**

> SUPER BIG thanks to [raquians](http://https://archiveofourown.org/users/raquians/pseuds/raquians) for being my beta reader! i'm such a huge fan of her work (Have you read ["don't you know you've got the best of me?"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17975480)?? it's my absolute FAVORITE fremione fic. yall needa read it.) I was so honored to have her help through this process.
> 
> ANYWAY yes!!!! Thank you for reading!!! I've been mulling over this fic idea over for a good few months now and I've finally compiled these sporadic daydreams into a coherent story! Yay! 
> 
> PLEASE leave a comment below about your FAVORITE PART!!! I love hearing feedback from yall!!!!  
> Thanks again!!


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